


boom boom pow (boom boom pow)

by nasaplates



Category: C-Pop, EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: BE SAFE KIDS, Canon Compliant, Floor Sex, I wish I fucking knew, M/M, Marking, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Service Top, Unsafe Sex, listen yixing clearly needs to get dicked down and this is the only way I have to do it, some feelings snuck in there oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-09 20:37:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20123449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nasaplates/pseuds/nasaplates
Summary: Kris gets a text from Yixing that says "I need you" followed by a hotel and a room number. Yes he shows up. Yes he's whipped. Yes he service tops for Yixing this one time. It all works out in the end.





	boom boom pow (boom boom pow)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [figure8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/figure8/gifts).

> my wife challenged me to a duel and conned me into writing this in 2 hours last night (not clickbait)
> 
> all mistakes are mine because I'm yeeting this without even rereading it.

Kris walked up to the door of the hotel room, checking his phone repeatedly to make sure he had the number right. It wasn't unheard of for Yixing to get in touch with him, especially when they were both in the same city for once. It was...unusual, to say the least, to get a text that only read _ I need you _ followed by a hotel name and room number. 

He hesitated in front of the door, not really sure what to expect behind it. Booty calls were fine, more than fine, it sent electric shocks running down his spine just thinking about it. They didn't label what they were doing, hadn't since before he even left EXO. Their lives didn't lend themselves to commitments, to certainty, to a forever kind of love. But ships passing in the night, even ships altering course so they _ could _pass in the night, well. That they could do.

What had Kris pausing, what turned the frisson of heat to ice, was the worry that what Yixing needed was someone to talk him down from some unknown sadness, some heartbreak, gas tank gone empty and left with only fumes.

Hand raised to knock, Kris realized the door was already cracked open, propped by the latch. Pissed at himself for his own indecision, he pushed the door open and strode in, only to freeze entirely at the sight that awaited him.

Yixing was sprawled on the floor, legs akimbo, clad only in tight black boxers. His skin glistened with sweat despite the cool air of the room, every muscle in his lean body on display, mouth parted, hair slicked back like he'd taken a shower. 

Those tight black boxers were stretched over an impression erection.

The door snapped shut behind Kris, the starting gun telling all the blood in his body to rush from his head straight to his cock. A grunt punched out of his chest like he'd been hit, and his knees wobbled, just a touch.

Yixing lifted a hand from the floor, leaning heavily on his other elbow, activating his abs. He pulled and massaged himself, voice coming out demanding when he said, "Need you, _ fuck_, not even the vibrating dildo is going to cut it tonight. Need your cock."

Kris swallowed, flexed his hands at his side. Yixing was almost never like this, always preferred to be in charge, preferred to top. Kris loved it like that, loved being allowed to finally stop being so fucking stressed all the time, loved knowing Yixing would take care of him. But all that experience had to count for something, right? He knew what he'd want, after a concert where all he had to hump was air and the stage (yes, he had seen the photos and the videos), all he could do was hear the screams of the crowd and know that their happiness depended on his every move and note. A heady power, but for men like him and Yixing, a heavy responsibility too.

So, Yixing needed him.

He could do that.

Slow and deliberate, he took off his jacket and hung it on the waiting hook, next to Yixing's, toed off his shoes, took off his watch and put it and his phone on the little table he passed as he walked toward Yixing, who was still pulling on his dick through the fabric of his boxers. Kris just stood over him and looked for a moment, admiring the planes and angles of his face, the muscles of his forearm as it worked.

Still deliberate, he went to the floor, folding himself to kneeling in the V of Yixing's legs, as though in prayer. Then, snaking out a hand to cup the side of Yixing's face, Kris pulled him into a kiss. 

Yixing moaned into his mouth and gripped his biceps in strong hands. Fingers woven into damp locks, Kris pulled until he got the angle right, biting at his mouth, sucking on that full bottom lip. Heated and messy, Yixing tipped his head back and Kris obliged him, nipping a line across his jaw with his teeth, biting kisses just short of leaving marks down his neck. When he got to Yixing's collarbone, Yixing's hand woven into his long hair, Kris bit the skin, hard.

The sound Yixing made filled Kris with something raw and terrible. In an almost violent motion, Kris grabbed Yixing by the waist and pulled him down and sideways until his back thumped onto the carpet. Yixing cursed, the sound cutting off to a yell when Kris took a nipple between his teeth, nails scraping down the sides of his torso leaving pretty welts in their wake. 

Kris worked his way quickly downward, biting and licking any skin beneath his mouth. Yixing kept up a litany of muttering under the attack but Kris just let it fuel whatever it was erupting inside his chest. 

This stupidly beautiful, hard working, talented man, texting him with little more than a room number and he _ came_. And he would answer every single fucking time. 

He gripped those black boxers in two fists and tugged them down his body, pretty sure he felt something tear, but he didn't give a fuck. That perfect cock was free to slap against his belly, making Kris's mouth water, smearing precum in a silvery trail across his skin. Kris licked it off of him, taking the opportunity to bite even more bruises onto his hip bones, down the insides of his thighs.

Those marks would be covered in every performance, for all his press releases. They wouldn't be visible, but they were _ his_. 

Suddenly Yixing contorted himself, almost kneeing Kris in the face, and then came back underneath him to shove a bottle of lube into Kris's hand.

"Fuck me," Yixing said, no nonsense, no romanticism. "Need your fucking cock, _ now _ ." Yixing spread his legs, exposing his hole, already stretched and shiny with lube. "No prep, _ unh_, just you. Come on, baby, _ come on_."

Once Kris's brain was back online, he scrabbled to tug his shirt over his head, Yixing trying to help, only getting him more caught, the both of them chuckling breathlessly. Finally free, Kris undid his belt, opened his pants, and shoved them and his briefs halfway down his thighs, his painfully hard cock snapping up when released. 

When he looked up, Yixing had flipped over onto his knees, forehead pillowed on his forearms, ass in the air. Kris moaned, deep and guttural at the sight. Yixing looked back at him and smirked, shook his ass. 

"You up to it?" Yixing asked, serious under the tease. His face, under the blissed out expression, was pinched, insecure. The position he was in was exposed, vulnerable, like more than just your ass was on display, something Kris knew from experience. A feeling likely even more true for a control freak like Zhang Yixing. 

So, Kris smacked his right ass cheek in answer, making Yixing yelp. He kneaded the muscle to take the sting away, and distract from his next question.

"Do you want to ride me instead? Take it exactly how you want it, your pace, as deep and hard as you like?" He looked up at Yixing who had gone perfectly still.

"No," Yixing said slowly, relaxing back onto his knees, ass going higher. "Want you to give it to me, this time. Don't want to think, Fanfan. Make me feel it in the morning."

Kris's scalp tingled, his fingertips overly sensitized where they rested on Yixing's skin, thumb brushing back and forth. He nodded, even though Yixing couldn't see him now, with his face buried in the crook of his elbow again.

Kris made quick work of lubing himself up, sucking in a breath through his teeth at how fucking good it felt to finally touch his dick. He shuffled forward the scant space between himself and Yixing, who shivered at the way his open jeans brushed against the insides of his thighs.

By no means a small man, Kris took his time pushing in, giving Yixing a moment to adjust and breathe after the head of his cock pressed through the ring of muscle, rhythmically squeezing Yixing's hips until he relaxed and Kris could move forward, slowly, inch by inch. When he was finally fully sheathed in Yixing's body, he let out a shaky breath, and Yixing arched his back adjusting to the fullness and the stretch.

"Move," Yixing groaned.

"As you wish," Kris replied, half delirious with want.

The laugh Yixing started to make at that shifted into a yell when Kris pulled almost all the way out just to slam back into him again, their hips slapping obscenely. It took a handful of strokes for them to find the right rhythm, Yixing trying to dictate with the way he kept pushing back into him.

A stray thought crossed Kris's mind in the haze. _ I wonder who else has seen him like this. _ His hips snapped forward, harsh and deep, and that seemed to break the dam for both of them. Yixing finally gave over control. Kris finally took it.

It was mindless fucking, deep and hard, skin slapping and squelching, some combination of anger and want and _ need _ setting Kris's skin on fire, driving his hips into Yixing's body. He gripped Yixing's hips hard enough to leave fingertip bruises there, and that just made him want to snarl in pleasure. Kris wanted to take a bite of his flesh, he wanted to stake a claim. He wanted to paint the inside of his body with his cum and make him keep it there for hours.

"Yes, fuck, yes, yours," Yixing panted, each syllable punched out by a thrust of Kris's hips, and that was when he realized that he'd been saying all that out loud. 

Yixing's orgasm took him completely by surprise, the shouting convulsions and clenching around his cock making Kris nearly blind with feral pleasure. It only took another handful of uncoordinated vicious strokes before he was coming too, the world going completely white, ears ringing, everything lost but the feeling of primal satisfaction and utter release.

They came apart, flopping to the floor in opposite directions, Yixing with his back against the wall. They panted in tandem, staring up at the ceiling, neither quite willing to look at each other just yet. 

Minutes later, when Kris finally chanced a glance, Yixing's eyes were closed, face lax, almost asleep. Kris smiled softly, then lifted his hips enough to pull his briefs and pants back up so he could stand without tripping himself. He bent down and gently prodded Yixing awake and shuffled him into the bathroom to clean up, while Kris found his shirt and did up his pants properly. He found Yixing's boxers, too, torn in two places. Kris smirked and considered pocketing them, but stuffed them into the little garbage can instead.

After the sound of running water had finished and the toilet flushed, Yixing came yawning out of the bathroom, idly scratching his belly. He flopped face first onto the enormous bed, making Kris chuckle. When he showed no sign of moving again, Kris tugged the covers out from under him and pulled them over him, admiring the handful of welts and marks Kris had left behind.

"Thank you," Yixing said, one surprisingly alert eye looking at him, Kris having gotten closer to his face than he'd realized while tucking him in. They both knew he wasn't thanking him for the blankets. Kris pressed a careful kiss to Yixing's prominent cheekbone, surprising himself with the action. 

He pulled away quickly, starting to look for his watch and phone, when Yixing said, "Stay." Kris froze in the middle of the room, deer in the headlights. Neither of them had ever stayed before, not since they quit sharing dorms that made the entire concept somewhat nebulous.

Yixing patted the covers on the other side of the bed. "Bed's huge," he mumbled, slurring a bit with fatigue. "No one will know. You don't snore. Stay."

_Stay_, he thought, rolling the idea around in his head.

Yeah. He could do that.

**Author's Note:**

> don't @ me.
> 
> unless you really really want to in which case I can be found on twitter @nasaplates


End file.
